Outsider

I know that look you’re giving me.
You’ve identified me as outsider, not normal, not, ‘one of your own’.
I’d like to congratulate you on your observational skills –
Not that your methods I can condone.

You look down your poreless, flawless nose at me,
Taking in unkempt hair,
The uneven skin, the tattoos –
And then flinch under my stare.

Do you want to actually try talking to me?
Or do you prefer this unfounded from-a-distance disdain?
Will you whisper tales of your unsightly encounter today,
As...